


Mirror

by a_artic



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Other, dimension bending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 12:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20174452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_artic/pseuds/a_artic
Summary: Two men and an apartment that's definitely trying to mess with them.





	Mirror

Hoseok refuses to wake up. Hyunwoo grumbles from his room. His early morning throatiness bleeds through the walls. Hoseok tosses and turns. The bed loses its comfortable coolness and turns unbearably hot. Even after tossing the comforter off, Hoseok can’t cool off. Frustrated and hungry, Hoseok finally gets out of bed. He shoves his feet into a pair of old plaid slippers and shuffles out of his room. 

The large apartment is full of sunlight and lived in furniture. A hodgepodge of fluffy pillows, cartoon objects, plain but practical items fills the room. The TV is still turned on. A random mid-morning program plays softly. Hoseok doesn’t pay much attention to it despite not remembering leaving it turned on. He walks into the kitchen and prepares a quick shake. As he sips on the shake that’s a ghastly shade of green, a thought smacks into him. Propelled by this thought, Hoseok hurries over to Hyunwoo’s room. He flings the door open, forgetting to knock for the umpteenth time. 

The excitement, or maybe desperation, to see Hyunwoo fades as quickly as it came. The bedroom is empty. His bed is perfectly made. The desk still has a worn notebook of thoughts and ideas placed in the middle. The room feels like it’s shouting in anticipation for its owners’ return. Tenderly, as if he was going to wake a sleeping beast, Hoseok enters. He places his shake off on the corner of the desk. His hunger is forgotten. Hoseok runs his fingers over the fabric of Hyunwoo’s sheets. The familiar scent of his fabric softener wafts up. Hoseok stifles a gulp. 

He lowers himself onto the bed and rests against the pillow. In an instant, he’s swallowed by the smell and memory of Hyunwoo. The goofy smile he made whenever someone complimented him. That concentration pout. It flooded back. Hoseok has to tear himself away from the bed. But distance doesn’t make the sensation go away. If anything, it heightens it. Makes the absence larger, more debilitating. The bed squeals as Hoseok rises. 

The sound wakes Hyunwoo. He looks around his room and sees nothing. But, even in his groggy state, Hyunwoo is certain he heard something. Feels something in his room. Concerned, Hyunwoo scans his room. On the corner of his desk is a drink he is certain he never left. An awful green-colored concoction. This puts Hyunwoo’s body on high alert. A cold sweat sends a chill down his spine. He flings his comforter off and tries to slip his feet into his slippers. The old plaid slippers are nowhere to be found. Hyunwoo’s certain that he left them in by his bed. A sharp chill passes through him as he goes through the middle of his room to the living room.

Everything looks in place. The TV is still on the channel he left it on last night. He relaxes momentarily. Until he spots Hoseok’s door wide open. Hyunwoo remembers leaving that door closed. He hasn’t opened it in months despite agonizing in front of it most nights. He swallows his fear and approaches.

The room is almost exactly how Hoseok had left it. His computer desk is cluttered with producing equipment and knickknacks. The curtains are tightly shut, cutting off the majority of the sunlight. One thing is out of place. The comforter. Hyunwoo remembers making it the last day he’d seen Hoseok. After that fight drove him out of the house in a flurry. Hyunwoo was certain he’d return by nightfall. In his anxious wait for Hoseok’s return, Hyunwoo ended up cleaning Hoseok’s room, restocking his vitamins, and grabbing an assortment of those protein shakes. Even a new pair of headphones sit unopened in a bag by the desk. 

Perturbed by the disheveled comforter, Hyunwoo fixes it. The regret that consumes him makes him stop. The comforter barely holds Hoseok’s scent. Hyunwoo could never figure out Hoseok’s mixture of fragrances to replicate it. And now, it’s barely a whisper on the fabric. Hyunwoo holds the comforter close to him. Somehow it’s still warm. He clears his throat and lets the comforter fall. Hyunwoo remakes the bed. As he leaves, he takes one last look at the room. So much of Hoseok’s essence still lives there. Frozen in time. 

Hyunwoo closes Hoseok’s door. The sound is mirrored. Hyunwoo and Hoseok freeze. Hoseok looks towards where the noise came from. Yet, as he looks at his now-closed door, he sees nothing. Hyunwoo looks at his closed door. Something closed it, but nothing is there. Both Hoseok and Hyunwoo walk slowly towards their respective rooms. As they reach the middle of the living room, a chill like someone left the door open during winter envelopes them. They idle there. The cold only grows stronger. 

“Who’s there,” both Hyunwoo and Hoseok call out. 

They recoil as they hear each other’s voices. Months have passed since they’d last heard each other that clearly. They’ve each replayed old voicemails and videos to hear each other again but nothing as mind-blowingly realistic as now. 

“Hoseok, are you there?”

Hoseok shakes his head and steps back.  _ There is no way that’s real. I have to be hallucinating _ , Hoseok thinks. 

“I knew that was stupid,” Hyunwoo says. 

Ignoring the growing sensation of losing his sanity, Hoseok responds.

“I’m here.”

Stunned silence passes for a moment. 

“This can’t be real,” Hyunwoo says.

“It shouldn’t be,” Hoseok responds. He takes in a shuddering breath, but his next words refuse to stop from shaking. “I’ve missed you.”

Hyunwoo clamps his lips and looks off.

“I missed you, too,” Hyunwoo says.

The tremble in Hyunwoo’s voice breaks Hoseok’s heart. 

Hoseok and Hyunwoo step closer to where the cold spot was again. This time, nothing. 

“Hoseok?”

“Hyunwoo?”

No response. The silence is blistering. Hoseok and Hyunwoo race around the apartment, trying to find whatever connection allowed them to speak to each other again. Desperate to apologize for arguing. To say sorry for forcing the other out of the house. Out into the street where a deranged driver would take their lives. Each missing from each other’s life in this mirrored reality of their home. 

Exhausted, Hyunwoo sits in front of Hoseok’s bedroom door. And Hoseok sits in front of Hyunwoo’s door. The TV fills in the void. Both men bury their faces in the arms as the hug their knees to their chest. 

“I need you,” both say. Nothing calls back to them.

“Don’t leave me again.”


End file.
